Improperly Wed (Aristocratic Grooms #3)(13)
Author: Anna DePalo

Despite herself, she felt sad that he might sell and split up these beautiful paintings. If only she had the means to offer to buy them herself.

Colin tilted his head. “No, I have no intention of selling. At the moment, I’m far more interested in cultivating my investments.”

She felt palpable relief, even though she told herself again that what he did, or didn’t do, was of no matter to her. “You recently bought these paintings. Why would you want them appraised? There hasn’t been enough time for any significant appreciation.” She pursued her lips. “They are authentic, you know. I can personally vouch for it.”

“Ah, authenticity,” he murmured. “It’s what I look for.”

She shifted, aware that he might be talking about something other than the paintings.

Colin tilted his head. “As I said, I wanted confirmation that I paid a good price. Like most of my investments, I think they’re worth more than I bought them for—at least, now.”

Again, Belinda experienced the uncomfortable feeling that there was a subtext to his words that she didn’t wholly understand.

“You can’t put a precise number on art, though many people try to,” she responded. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all.”

“So I’ve understood,” he responded, his tone soft.

She watched him look her over, down to the tips of her toes. His gaze started with her face—she only wore light makeup—traveled down to her dress, lingered at her bust and ended with her peep-toe floral-print sandals.

She felt the weight of that look on her br**sts and at the juncture of her thighs, even before it made her strangely unstable on her legs.

It was an appreciative look—and enough to belatedly bring out her combative instinct.

“Why are you doing this?” It was time to drop all pretense.

“Perhaps I would like to lay claim to being the one who finally buried the Wentworth-Granville feud.” To his credit, he didn’t pretend to misunderstand her meaning, but his gaze remained enigmatic.

“If you want to end this feuding between us, all you have to do is sign the dissolution papers.”

“Hardly any valor to lay claim to in that—it’s far too passive.”

“You could always divorce me on the grounds of adultery,” she suggested hopefully.

She tossed out the rude comment as a gambit and then regretted it when Colin looked keen and possessive.

“Yours or mine?” he asked.

“Mine, of course.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you do. You never slept with Dillingham.”

His audacity took her breath away.

“Really,” she answered with scorn. “And how would you know that? Confident that you ruined me for any other man?”

His smile was deceptively slow and mild. “No, but a marriage contracted to save the family farm is rarely full of passion.”

Belinda sucked in a breath.

“And then there’s the fact that you had sex with me here in Vegas three years ago only after we were married. What did you say you’d come to understand? You were looking for a man who played for keeps? I guessed that you were likewise making Tod wait.”

Belinda realized she was chewing on her bottom lip and abruptly stopped—to anyone who knew her well, her habit was a giveaway that she was nervous. Three years ago, she’d still been smarting from being tossed aside by a boyfriend.

“Except I ruined matters for you with Dillingham, didn’t I?” Colin continued. “And now, in desperation, Uncle Hugh has taken matters into his own hands. I bet you had no idea the Wentworth financial affairs were quite so desperate.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

She should have figured that Colin had an ace up his sleeve. After all, she’d seen his successful streak at the poker tables three years ago. And she knew from his real-estate holdings that he had an uncanny ability with numbers and investing.

“Have you spoken with your uncle lately?” he countered.

“No.” Belinda searched her brain. “What’s wrong with Uncle Hugh?”

“Nothing, but he has given up his Mayfair town house.”

Belinda knew her uncle moved around on a regular basis. “There’s nothing unusual—”

“Permanently.”

Belinda stilled. “Why would he do that?”

“Because the Mayfair town house now belongs to me.”

Belinda shook her head. “That’s impossible.”

Just a few months ago, she’d been at the Mayfair address that had belonged to the Wentworth family for generations. True, her uncle had seemed preoccupied and worried, but she’d never imagined—

“On the contrary, you’ll find the deed has been properly recorded…unlike our annulment. Your uncle may still reside there on his estates, but it’s at my discretion.”

Belinda looked at him with stupefaction. “Why in the world would Uncle Hugh sell the town house to you? You’re the last person in the world to whom he’d sell.”

“Simple,” Colin responded in a dry tone. “He wasn’t aware I was the ultimate buyer. The town house was sold to one of my companies. Presumably he didn’t know I was the principal shareholder. I imagine he thought he was selling to one of those newly minted Russian oligarchs who prize privacy as well as London real estate.”

She stared at Colin in astonishment. It couldn’t be…

Colin shrugged. “It was a quick sale for an agreeable price. Your uncle was apparently looking for a quick infusion of cash.”

“What does that have to do with me?” she demanded defiantly.

“I also already owned the larger of the two Berkshire estates.”

Belinda’s shoulders lowered. The Wentworth family had, somewhat unusually, two estates in Berkshire. The smaller of the two was of more recent origin, having come into the family through the marriage of her great-great-grandmother. The larger—which Colin apparently now owned, if his claims were to be believed—had been in the family since the days of Edward III. Downlands, as it was called, bordered Granville land, and had been the subject of a prolonged property-line dispute with Colin’s family in the nineteenth century.

Belinda’s head buzzed. She had no responsibility for the Wentworth estates, she told herself. After all, she had her life in New York as an art dealer. She was far from the family fray—or was she?